


Ghosts in Plain Sight

by Anonymous



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Also by Buzzfeed Unsolved, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Elements of gothic fiction, Implied/Referenced homophobia and sinophobia, Inspired by Scooby Doo, Light Horror, M/M, Unreliable Narrator, Unspecified Mental Illness, Warnings May Change, winwin-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sicheng and his brother, Ten, have lived on their quiet island for five years. It would be perfect if only Sicheng weren't haunted by the ghosts of the previous inhabitants. In attempt to help him, Ten brings in Yangyang: a vlogger known for debunking ghost stories.Soon, the careful balance the brothers have created on their island is upheaved and things more complicated than ghosts begin tormenting Sicheng.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Liu Yang Yang, Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13
Collections: Anonymous, Winwin Fic Fest Round 1





	Ghosts in Plain Sight

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for the top prompter of WWFF! Thank you for your participation! Enjoy the fic heh <3
> 
> —mod cake

The island had a population of exactly five people.

There was Sicheng, his brother Ten, the boatsman Yukhei, the gardener, and a grumpy, old hunter. Admittedly, Yukhei didn’t live on the island, but Sicheng considered him a part of its population anyway. Aside from the hunter, they all interacted with each other on a daily basis, exchanging small talk and helping each other as needed. It was a quaint life in its unassuming nature. Not much changed in their dynamics as the days went on and it seemed the island would never change. None of the five left and none joined the five.

Until, one day, Sicheng told his brother he was hearing ghosts in their basement. Ten laughed when Sicheng shared the news but took his concerns into account and Sicheng stopped going to the basement. But the ghosts didn’t go away.

Instead, their presence began following him everywhere. They were there while he ate, slept, and worked. No matter how much he ignored them, they kept whispering into his ears and clawing their way into his mind. Eventually, Sicheng stopped pretending like it didn’t bother him and went to his brother again. This second time, Ten was more concerned.

“I believe you, Winnie,” Ten said. He clasped his brother’s hand tightly. “I’ll find something we can do about it.”

So they continued their routine. Sicheng would take the boat to the mainland to buy groceries in the mornings while Ten toiled away in the garden with the wizened gardener. In the evenings, they reunited and had dinner before they retired to their rooms. After the second ghost debacle, Ten added a new element to their routine: research. The brothers would pore over books and articles and shows trying to find a solution to Sicheng’s ghosts. Priests came and went, mediums failed to suffice, and eventually Sicheng gave up. He accepted the whispers that lingered around him constantly. Even the icy touches that once kept him up at night lost their initial terror and soon Sicheng even began going down into the basement again.

His brother did not follow suit. Ten continued to try new methods and bring people into their home, each of whom failed. Sicheng watched every fantastical effort and listened with his head hung low as the ghosts cackled at the attempts made in vain.

Then, Yangyang came to the island.

They found Yangyang through Ten’s arduous search. He was a popular “vlogger” on the internet, made famous through his videos debunking ghosts. When Ten contacted him, Liu Yangyang was confident enough to accept the task and eagerly made plans to visit their island a little under a month later.

“You really don’t have to do this anymore,” Sicheng told his brother when he found out.

But Ten wasn’t listening. Miffed, Sicheng moved in front of Ten’s desk, blocking the light. This caught his brother’s attention. 

“I said.” Sicheng repeated, “You don’t have to do this anymore.”

Ten kept a steady gaze on Sicheng. Sicheng stared back at his brother, growing more nervous as the seconds ticked by. Eventually, Ten sighed and broke eye contact. Immediately, the confrontational energy leaked from Sicheng and he watched his brother carefully.

Ten asked, “If I can’t keep my own brother safe, what kind of person am I?”

Sicheng faltered. His brother turned back to his work. He was left to rock from leg to leg awkwardly and wring his hands together. Should he say more? Dare he not?

Quietly, Sicheng said, “I’m going to the docks.”

It was defeat. Sicheng could promise to himself that he’d ask Ten again to send this new fellow away but in the face of his brother, Sicheng always failed to voice his deepest worries.

“See you later, Winnie.”

Once he stepped outside of their small house, the fresh air enveloped him like a soothing balm. Sicheng began the short walk towards the docks. The path under his feet was well-worn and he could follow it in his sleep. He could describe each tree that lined the way and made sure to check on them frequently. Today, he noticed that a family of swallows had made their nest in the tree he called Lemon.

He stood there a while, mouth agape. Sicheng could hear the cheeps of the baby swallows as their orange beaks hungrily clamored together for mealtime. He marveled at their tiny size, wishing he could turn into a little swallow himself and fly away into the trees as well.

 _“Don’t you know that nothing good comes from useless fantasy, boy?”_ a ghost hissed in his ear.

Sicheng flinched and lowered his head. “It was a nice thought,” he mumbled to himself.

He turned away and trudged onwards. The ghost followed him closely, swearing at him. She was one of the older, nastier ones. Whenever she spoke, Sicheng couldn’t help but listen like a schoolboy being scolded by a headmistress.

By the docks, Yukhei was tying up his trawler boat. He grinned when he spotted Sicheng and waved at him brightly, which Sicheng mirrored.

“What’s got you down, chicklet?” Yukhei asked.

“Hi, Yukhei,” Sicheng called out. “My brother invited someone to the island again.”

He climbed into the back of Yukhei’s boat and got comfortable on the transom seat. He knew Yukhei wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon since he’d tied his ship. Sicheng was proven right again when Yukhei plopped down next to him, cuddling close.

“What’s this? The billionth person? Your brother’s pretty popular, ha. Wish I had so many fans.”

Sicheng didn’t feel like correcting Yukhei and made a mental note to consider telling Yukhei the truth. He took the ice pop that Yukhei pulled out of his icebox and opened it up.

“This guy is some internet sensation. He debunks ghost stories for a living,” Sicheng said. He bit down on the popsicle, instantly regretting it. Yukhei laughed at him until Sicheng regained feeling in his teeth. “His name’s ‘Yangyang.’”

“Hot. Am I eating dinner with you guys tonight?”

“Yeah.”

Yukhei beamed, eyes crinkling. “Cool.” He leaned in and kissed Sicheng lightly. “Let’s move to the cabin?”

Sicheng clutched onto his popsicle tightly. “Yeah,” he breathed.

Later, Sicheng was staring at the trawler’s ceiling from Yukhei’s tiny cabin bed. The planks were rough but warm and gave the cabin a cosy look. It reminded Sicheng a lot of Yukhei. He shifted, nuzzling his cheek into Yukhei’s warm arm. The man in question stirred and sleepily lifted his arm to wrap it around Sicheng and pull him closer.

It comforted Sicheng and he stretched up to peck Yukhei before resting his head in the crook of his neck. This was their little pocket of life: Yukhei’s trawler and their quiet cove. At least here, the ghosts didn’t dare intrude. As Sicheng basked in Yukhei’s warmth, his dread of the ghost vlogger’s arrival grew.

“Sicheng, can you put these sheets in the guest room for Mr Liu?” Ten asked, arms carrying a pile of freshly washed bed linen.

Sicheng automatically held out his arms to take them, grimacing internally when they thumped into his waiting arms after Ten dropped them.

Ten’s lips quirked into an amused smile. “He’s only staying a night, baby brother. I just want to try. It won’t hurt.”

“What if he prods me again?” Sicheng asked softly.

Ten froze. Knowing that Sicheng was not talking about Yangyang, Ten immediately answered, “No-one is going to prod you again. I won’t let that happen.”

 _“Lies,”_ whispered the room.

“Mr Liu’s a science guy. One of those rational heads. No rituals, no crazy stuff. I researched carefully. Promise.”

What did it matter that this guy used science to explain things versus the priests that came before?

The murmurs in the room swelled louder, and the ghosts danced around Sicheng’s head, taunting. But he could barely hear them, his own memories louder this time.

“Sicheng?”

When Sicheng didn’t respond, Ten searched Sicheng’s face and noted the distant look in his brother’s eyes with growing worry.

“Sicheng? Come back to me. It’s me, Ten. Your brother.” Ten took in a deep breath and crouched down, frowning up at his brother. Gingerly, he took Sicheng’s hand in his own, stroking it. “Sicheng, I’m here. Ten’s here. You’re safe.”

Sicheng snapped back into the moment. He felt his brother’s hand around his through the haze in his mind and stared at it. 

“You can stay here, Sicheng. I’ll go to the docks. Will you be alright?”

Sicheng nodded and broke away from the hold. In a hurry, he ran his fingers over everything in the house. He needed to feel the textures, needed the reassurance that he was grounded—anything to take his mind off the buzz in his mind. His brother hovered around him.

“I’ll be fine,” he told his brother. When it was clear his brother was hesitant, he added, “If you’re not there, the guy will get lost and end up meeting Stan.”

Sicheng smiled when Ten’s face scrunched up in disgust at the mention of Stan. The old man had that effect. Then again, who would smile when talking about a half-crazed person who shot everything in his vicinity?

Albeit unwillingly, Ten pulled away. “I’ll head down to the docks then, to wait for Mr Liu. See you soon.”

“Is Yukhei going to join us?” Sicheng asked. His voice sounded small and he berated himself for it, embarrassed.

“Maybe. But did we cook enough for four?”

Sicheng answered, “Yes.” Then he amended: “Nevermind. We should focus on Mr Liu.”

Ten nodded in agreement. He tiptoed up to Sicheng’s forehead and kissed him goodbye before moving away with a wave. Sicheng waved back, watching nervously as Ten disappeared through the doorway.

As he waited for his brother to return and their guest, Sicheng flurried around the house. The guest bedroom was as ready as it could be, Sicheng made sure of that, but he checked again for his fraying nerves. The valuables were all tucked away and their house spotless.

Sicheng stopped at his bedroom door. He stepped behind it and tested the lock, breathing a sigh of relief when it worked without a hitch. If all went well, he wouldn’t need to use it. Across from his room, Ten’s bedroom lay so he tested that door too. All was well.

What else could he do as he waited? Everything had already been checked and double-checked. Even so, his sanity was draining with all his worry. He twisted his hands together as he hurried back to the front porch. For ages, all he could see were his lovely pathway trees with their leaves and sweet wildlife. There were no telltale sounds of his brother, the guest, or even Yukhei. Sometimes, a breeze would rustle through the forest and disturb some birds but that was all. Sicheng pressed his forehead to the glass with his hands clutching the window sill and sighed.

 _“When does this boy stop crying?”_ one of the ghosts asked, appalled.

The headmistress ghost sniffed and an icy finger dug itself into Sicheng’s temple. _“It was after that one priest, wasn’t it?”_

 _“No! It was before. I was here first,”_ cried another ghost, “ _I_ _saw them move in. He was a crybaby even then. You! Boy! Speak to us.”_

Sicheng clenched his fists and urged them to stop weakly.

_“Well, that’s rude. In my day, we’d give him a good whipping.”_

_“It’s been so long, you’d think he would learn by now.”_

_“I saw him with that boat boy—“_

The ghosts hushed abruptly. Sicheng perked up and heard what made them shut up: loud footsteps. It had to be the guest. His brother didn’t shuffle like that and neither did any of the other island’s occupants.

An unfamiliar silhouette stepped out of the foliage accompanied by the shuffling footsteps. They came from a cheery-looking man of average height dressed in flashy clothing. This was Liu Yangyang. What he lacked in height, he made up for in charisma. Following closely behind was Sicheng’s brother and, Sicheng noted with a flutter, Yukhei as well. They were all carrying bright red suitcases. Yukhei was carrying the most. As they came closer to the house, Sicheng could catch snippers of the conversation Liu Yangyang was having with the others. Their guest was animated and spoke in an upbeat voice with few breaks.

Sicheng recoiled from the window when he thought he saw Liu Yangyang look his way and darted further into the house.

“What a nice house!” Yangyang shouted.

Ten murmured something that sounded like thanks.

The crunching footsteps turned to thuds as they stepped up onto the porch and soon the door swung open, Ten leading the way in.

“Please. I’ll show you to your room. Yukhei, are you coming in?”

 _“Filthy, maggot-infested strangers on our land,”_ Sicheng heard vaguely.

“Nah, I should be heading back home. Tell Sicheng ‘hi’ for me.”

The door closed. Sicheng waited behind his bedroom door with bated breath for them to pass his room. Yangyang’s chatter floated through the hallway. Finally, once the guest bedroom door creaked shut and the talking muffled, Sicheng slipped outside.

He paced in the kitchen and did various menial tasks, his worry eating at him all the while. It was as he was stacking away a pile of freshly washed plates that Yangyang first saw him.

“Uh. Hi.”

Sicheng jerked around, nearly dropping a plate. “Oh, hello.”

They stood in awkward silence like that until Yangyang cleared his throat. “I’m Liu Yangyang. Ten kindly invited me over to your place. I make ghost videos.”

Sicheng waited for Yangyang to continue speaking but realised that the pause was meant for him to speak. Flustered, Sicheng stumbled over his words. “T-that’s nice. My name is Dong Sicheng and I’m Ten’s brother.”

Yangyang gave him a large, genuine smile. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Are you busy right now or do you mind if I chat you up?”

“Oh, no! You can, um, talk. I’ll finish soon.”

Feeling stupid, Sicheng looked away. He tucked the plates away and shut the cabinet, hoping desperately the atmosphere wasn’t too strange. When he turned back, Yangyang was on the far side of the room and was inspecting some of Ten’s baubles on the fireplace mantle.

“Those are from his travels on tour.”

Yangyang glanced briefly over his shoulder at Sicheng, making an ‘ah’ sound. “Was he a singer or something? He didn’t say.”

Sicheng shook his head. “Dancer.” When it looked like Yangyang would ask about him, Sicheng hastily added, “I was too.”

“Why’d you stop?” Yangyang wondered aloud.

“Sicheng, can you warm up the food?”

Ten inserted himself between them, turning to Sicheng first, then to Yangyang, “You must be hungry. We have chicken soup.”

At his brother’s reminder, Sicheng left for the stove. He checked the soup and turned on the stove, listening to his brother and Yangyang over the sound of the gas.

“Thanks. I’d like that. So what kind of dance did you guys do?”

“I did modern. Sicheng did classical Chinese. But on tour, we both did mixes.”

Had Sicheng glanced over his shoulder, he would have seen Yangyang’s gaze trained intently on his back. As it was, only Ten saw, and it made Ten uneasy.

  
  


Dinner was a peaceful affair. Conversation came easily to Ten and Yangyang, who had been discussing before the visit, and far less easy to Sicheng.

 _“He’s a hack, I’m telling you,”_ a ghost whispered into Sicheng’s ear. _“A rotten little hack who wants the money.”_

He can’t be a hack if he’s not getting money out of us, Sicheng pointed out.

_“It’s not YOUR money he wants, you worm-infested pig brain.”_

“Did you say something?”

Sicheng jerked to attention and met his brother’s startled eyes before Yangyang’s curious face.

“Sorry…” Sicheng murmured, “I was thinking.”

“Oh, man, sometimes I try thinking too. Nothing much happens though.”

This must have seemed hilarious to Yangyang because he broke into a hearty chuckle. That, or he was doing it purposefully to diffuse the situation. Whichever of the two, his audience was not particularly impressed.

“Sicheng, I was saying to Mr Liu—er, Yangyang—that you two should talk after dinner regarding our ghosts,” Ten suggested lightly.

Sicheng nodded haltingly. He hated how his brother insisted on referring to them as their ghosts. It made Sicheng sick to his stomach to think about how his brother had to shoulder a burden that was entirely Sicheng’s.

“How long do you think you’ll need to finish your research and video?”

Yangyang spoke between messy mouthfuls, “From what you’ve told me, I’ll need more than a day for sure. I could be done in two weeks. How long can I stay?”

Ten looked over to his brother. Sicheng said nothing. 

_“Parasites… all of them. Eating, defecating, using our precious land…”_

Ten said, “You can stay until you complete your project.”

_“Nasty little peasants. Leave, leave, leave!”_

Sicheng flinched.

  
  


The weather was still warm so after the dinner table was cleared, Sicheng found himself sitting with Yangyang on their porch swing. It was a rusty little thing that barely moved, even without the rust, and was covered in clumsy, hand-painted floral motifs. The brothers couldn’t bear to throw it out after Ten had toiled over it so uselessly for a week when they first bought the house.

Their swing usually could fit two people so long as the two people were cuddled together. Tonight, the swing was awfully cramped with only the smallest sliver of space separating Yangyang and Sicheng. Yangyang’s tiny microphone was propped between them as a marker of their respective space. He’d whispered into the microphone something Sicheng hadn’t paid attention to and then plopped it precariously in the tiny ravine between them.

They started with basic questions. Who are you and how old are you—things that you would fill out in a basic form for context. What Sicheng was waiting for were the questions on _them_.

“So how long have you and your brother been living here, Sicheng?”

“Five years this November. We, um, bought the house from the previous owner’s son. He was very nice.” Sicheng rubbed his sweating palms against his pants. Did he say too much? Too little? He couldn’t stop wondering.

Sensing his discomfort, Yangyang gave him a reassuring smile and mouthed “you’re fine” before moving onto his next question: “And why this island?”

“When we retired from dancing, my brother and I thought a quiet island would be nice.”

“You really found the quietest island of them all,” Yangyang commented.

It made Sicheng smile despite himself. “Yes,” he said, “It’s very peaceful.”

“But now your island house is haunted by ghosts. What’s up with that? Did you know that there might be ghosts before you bought the place?”

Sicheng’s smile flipped into a frown instantly. “No. We… We had no idea. My brother, Ten, says that there were a few deaths on the island but we only found out after the ghosts started bothering us.”

Bothering me, he really meant to say. Of course, Sicheng wasn’t sure if he was ready to share that yet with a stranger and his audience of even more strangers.

He plopped his hand on Sicheng’s knee to give it a friendly squeeze. “You’re doing amazing,” Yangyang whispered.

Sicheng jerked away despite himself. Horrified, he mumbled out a quick sorry which Yangyang dismissed. Yet Yangyang was unfazed and continued in his kindly tone, asking Sicheng if the ghosts matched the profiles of the people who died on the island—which they did. Sicheng told him so. This piqued Yangyang’s interest.

“How much do you guys see or hear? What do they do that you seem confident that the ghosts could be the people from the stories?”

Suddenly, all Sicheng could feel was the blood pumping in his ears. “W-well, who else could the ghosts be? I don’t think you can import spirits.” His voice trembled as he spoke.

Yangyang laughed. “Well, you could import a different kind of ‘spirits’ but, yeah, I see what you mean. Could you tell me about the deaths a bit more?”

An hour later, and Sicheng’s voice was sore when Ten popped his head out the front door. His brother sought out Sicheng’s gaze, relaxing when Sicheng seemed relaxed, before approaching the swing with all the ease of a practised host.

“Any luck?” Ten asked.

“Plenty. Sicheng told me a lot of interesting things.”

“That’s good. Are you tired or do you have energy for another interview with me tonight?”

“I’m going to bed,” Sicheng cut in. He hugged his brother and gave Yangyang an awkward tight-lipped smile. “Good night.”

“Sleep well!” Yangyang called out cheerfully. “And yes, an interview with—“

Yangyang’s sentence was cut off as Sicheng closed the door behind him. After sucking in a deep breath of relief, Sicheng made a beeline for the bathroom. He washed briskly under the watchful eye of the ghosts and got out of the bathtub as soon as one of the crones opened her mouth to make some snide remark.

On his way to his room, he paused by the guest bedroom.

The room called out to him the longer he stared but ultimately, Sicheng managed to pull himself away. In his own room, fragments of his brother’s voice filtered through the open window. Sicheng’s curtains fluttered in the evening breeze and the smell of the trees filled his bedroom. It was beautiful. Reluctantly, Sicheng slid the window shut.

As a last measure, Sicheng turned the door’s lock before he went to bed.

“ _Are you scared, little rat?”_ the headmistress asked in the dark.

Yes. He was.

  
  


Yukhei gave Sicheng’s hand a tender squeeze when he climbed onto Yukhei’s trawler the next morning.

“Morning, chicklet. What are you buying today? Want me to help you?”

Sicheng watched as Yukhei untied the boat and then steered it away from the docks into the wider waters beyond. “I’m making pasta today. Do you want to eat over?”

Yukhei smiled from where he stood at the wheel, glancing over his shoulder to wink at Sicheng. “Ah yeah! Absolutely. Food from Winko is a bingo.”

Yukhei’s remark warmed Sicheng’s heart and it gave him a nice glow during the boat ride until they reached the mainland. They docked and Sicheng was escorted off the trawler by Yukhei in mutual laughter. The pair walked towards the market side-by-side. Occasionally, they passed by people who saluted Yukhei, who greeted them back, and stared oddly at Sicheng.

“You know you can say hello to them, chick-a-dee. They’d like it,” Yukhei said.

Sicheng nodded. The next person they met was a sweet lady that worked at the local pharmacy. When she said hello to them, Sicheng opened his mouth to say hi back but it came out a soundless whisper—more of a croak than anything else. He flushed instantly, flustered, and fidgeted. Pathetic.

  
  


In the afternoon, Sicheng was on the path back towards the house when he came across his brother watching something intently from between Lemon and another tall pine he’d named Charlie.

“Ten?”

Ten whipped around, eyes wide until he recognised Sicheng. “Winnie! What’d you get today?”

Sicheng approached his brother, tilting down his bag so that Ten could look in his bag of groceries. Onions, tomatoes, bell peppers, etc. Fresh produce that they didn’t have yet in their own garden.

 _“I hope your dinner chokes you tonight. You and your thorn of a brother,”_ a ghost said.

“Vegetables mostly. What were you doing?”

Ten’s smile wavered.

“ _Why do you trust your brother? He’s always lying to you. He’s the one that hurt you. If he hadn’t brought that priest and_ —”

“Yangyang is interviewing Mr Carlos. I just wanted to make sure he’s not asking Mr Carlos anything weird.” Ten stepped aside, pulling Sicheng into his spot. “Look. See?”

Indeed, from where Ten was, Sicheng could spot Yangyang holding his microphone up to their gardener by the shed. Mr Carlos looked annoyed but seemed to be answering thoughtfully nonetheless.

Ten sighed and explained, “I told him he can ask Mr Carlos anything he wants about the place and land but to avoid asking about the ghosts. Said Mr Carlos is very religious, doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

This wasn’t true but Sicheng understood why his brother lied. They had both agreed to keep knowledge of the ghosts to them as much as possible. The fewer the people that knew, the easier their lives could be. Our little family affair, Ten called it.

So far, Yangyang was doing a good job of respecting their boundaries. He hadn’t pried into their pasts or asked them questions unrelated to the island, house, or the ghosts. But his curiosity was evident and even Sicheng noticed the way Yangyang would often admire their dancing memorabilia in the living room. Mr Carlos was a discreet man but how would they know or not if Yangyang pushed things too far if they didn’t check?

Sicheng dreaded the thought of a news story or video that painted him (and possibly Ten along with him) as a crazy, unhinged person. He prayed things would go well.

Around them, Sicheng’s ghosts screamed while the brothers watched Yangyang interview Mr Carlos.


End file.
